Day the First
I’ve been summoned to the realm of Stormfall as a lowly Pikeman, dispatched to Lord P— at the behest of Lord Oberon himself! Can’t say I’ve found much to commend my new lord —his “Castle” ain’t much more than a ruin, and His Lordship don’t look like the type which knows which end of his sword is the pointy bit. Well, ‘tis a far sight better than mucking out the stables. Could be worse, leastwise I’m not a Dwarf…
Day the Second:
It may be I’ve judged my new master too harshly. Today milord’s made fair progress, I heard the heralds announce that he has attained several new “Levels,” though what this means is not known to me. Good pig country here. The Castle is coming along, and we’ve a steady stream of new recruits. I have a good feeling about this.
I’ve a bad feeling about this. None of us have heard sight nor sound from our Lord P— today, and we’ve been left to mill about doing what we will. Lax discipline, and bound to end badly, if you ask me. You’d think the good master would have at least sent us safety to the Catacombs before taking off. Aye, nothing good will come of it.
Well, we’re in a right mess. Still no tidings from our Lord – we wait like idiots on the commons, pulling grass and watching our armor rust. We’ll be in for some proper trouble soon as a more powerful Lord takes note of us. It would seem as though our Lordship has more pressing matters than his realm, but since he gave no orders, we can’t hardly leave our posts, now can we? I miss home. Not even sure where it is anymore. What’s worst is we can see the orderly Castles of better fit masters from every rampart – maybe they’re hiring? One bit of bright news, some of the lads cracked open the master’s cellar and we’ve helped ourselves to his ale – if we’re to die, we’ll be damned if we’ll do it sober.
Meet your Pikemen on Stormfall!